Sunday, June 1
The crew and I are camped on Badger Mountain east of Ephraim in central Utah.
Bridget and Spike have been sleeping a lot since we set up camp here last Thursday.
Especially Bridget. She’s always the last one out of bed at any elevation. Since coming here, she waits until the very last moment — until breakfast is served — to crawl out from under the covers. Than she naps most of the day.
At least Spike walks around to find a good soak or climbs up the slope behind our camp. The remains of a large, furred animal that didn’t make it through the winter are up there. After I caught him once with his mouth full of fur and hide, he hasn’t made it more than half-way there before I scoop him up.
“Okay, enough napping, you two. We’re going to get up, have breakfast, and go for a walk. It’ll do us all good. Look at this gorgeous day!”
I drive us a short distance down the mountain. I park the Perfect Tow Vehicle at the start of a road leading through the aspen and fir forest.
The temperature of the air is perfect. I’m wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Patches of snow are all around. Numerous tiny streams make their way down slopes.
This is perfect for our walk. I saw campers down this road last year. I wonder if there’s a good campsite.
The bushes and some trees don’t yet have their leaves, giving a clear understory in the aspen groves. We come to the campsite and it is very lovely (That’s it in the first photo.) The site is grassy and it’s nearly impossible to walk off the road without stepping on tiny flowers everywhere. (Spike, below, demonstrates walking on the road, not on the flowers.)
Another reason not to camp here is the evidence of OHVs tearing through, even though this isn’t designated for that kind of vehicle.
Thirdly, the clearing is large enough to attract Clingers. Campsites are few on Badger Mountain.
Lastly, the internet connection likely would be intermittent and weak, due to high slopes all around.
We can come here, walk the road, and enjoy the natural beauty all around.
The road, muddy in places, winds through the open woods.
Up, down, around, and over make for an interesting and enjoyable walk. Bridget and Spike are having a grand time!
I hear the roar of a creek. I follow the sound and find that it cuts through a deep gorge in a series of waterfalls far below us. The crew is following right behind me.
“No, no, we don’t want to go this way. Spike, that’s too far down for you to go.”
We walk the road until it narrows and enters a dark section of forest.
“This is far enough. Let’s go back to the first clearing.”
I find a log that makes the right height chair for me.
I don’t want the crew to overdo it. They can’t tell me if the thin air is bothering them. They nose the ground around me, eat some grass (for roughage) and settle down to rest.
I want to be still and listen to the forest.
The birds are active and singing, of course, it being only about eight in the morning. A squirrel skitters up and down a tree, chit-chattering an alarm. The variety of small plants coming up through the grass indicates this clearing (There are three altogether.) will soon be dressed in delicate bouquets. I recognize the leaves of violets, one of my favorite flowers. The air smells of new grass, damp earth, springtime in the woods.
“You guys ready to head back?”
Together we cross the clearing and retrace the way we came.
Gee, that toast and coffee breakfast isn’t going to hold me until lunch. Hmm . . . Let’s see . . . There’s that leftover chicken breast in the fridge . . . .
It’s a short drive up the mountain to our camp.
I don’t stop at the BLT though. I wonder if that camper is still in the upper campsite. I soon find out that the site is still occupied. Two campers, three pick-ups, a flatbed trailer and numerous quads sit in the site.
I’m content where we are now.
A snack circle is me in my camp chair with the precious chicken breast in my hand and the two nutcakes facing me, eagerly awaiting their pieces of chicken. I get a bite, they each get a piece, repeat, until it’s all gone.
The sun feels good. Bridget rolls onto her back and squiggles, kicking her legs in the air. “Bridget, you silly girl!” Spike lies down to bake. Good. You need to dry all that mud off of you.
I put a pot of water on the stove to boil.
I pull out the little table from the PTV and set a basin of dirty dishes on it. Soon I’m washing and drying, watching the light on the new leaves of the aspens on the facing slope. I take two dirty pots over to a stream and rinse them out clean. I don’t know if it’s because the water is hard or extremely cold, but pots clean very easily in the tiny stream.
I tidy up the BLT and work on the January money report.
I cook up some Mexican rice. In a fry pan I brown two chicken sausages, sliced in medallions. I add a can of Rotel’s “diced tomatoes with green chilies,” some garlic seasoning, and a can of red kidney beans. It makes a satisfying supper with plenty left over for tomorrow.
Throughout the day vehicles motor past our campsite, carrying people on a Sunday drive up and down the mountain. They stare at us as they pass.
I’m glad I’m me and they’re them. I love my little trailer home, my nutcakes, my life. This has been a great day!
THANKS FOR SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!